I'm afraid the only time you and I, my dear, will ever be together,

Is right here in this poem.

And if that doesn't make me want to bleed blood from my wrists all over this paper instead of words from my mouth,

I don't know what will.

I guess I'm just one of those "lovesick, pathetic, try-too-hard's."

The one who uses their prayers to pray for you.

The one who uses their 11:11 wishes to wish for you.

The one who picks eyelashes from their crying eyes to hope and beg for you.

I guess I'm just one of those lovesick, pathetic, try-too-hard's.

Just hoping to be with you.

But having to face the harsh reality that people like me only end up with people like you,

In poems like this.